All Our Yesterdays (30 page)

10

Early one morning the Turk and Franz arrived, Cenzo Rena was floundering in his tub and Anna who was at the window told him that Franz and the Turk were just arriving together. Cenzo Rena went out in his bath-gown, something must have happened if those two suddenly came to see him together. Fascism was finished, they shouted to him, Mussolini was finished. The Turk sat down breathless on a rock and fanned himself with his straw hat, Cenzo Rena had to give him a cordial because he was on the point of fainting, he had run all the way, dragged along by Franz. So they had really thrown out Mussolini, said Cenzo Rena thoughtfully, the King had thrown out Mussolini, that was right and proper, but who remembered the King nowadays? He sat down on the rock beside the Turk, and wiped his face with the sleeves of his bath-gown. Franz had fetched a railway time-table and was studying it, he wanted to leave San Costanzo at once, he wanted to go to Stresa to join his wife. Now that Mussolini had fallen he was no longer an internee, he was a free citizen in Italy and could go where he liked. The Turk also could go where he liked. But the Turk kept fanning himself with his hat and he shook his head and said that the matter was not so simple after all, they were war internees and the war was still going on, for the present he still did not want to look at the railway time-table.

Then the village people began arriving, the farrier and the dressmaker and the draper and two or three
contadini,
those few who had not gone early in the morning into the fields, the ones in the fields still did not know anything about Mussolini. All of a sudden the police-sergeant also arrived, sweating and troubled, he shut himself up in a room with Cenzo Rena and begged him to testify on his behalf. At the bottom of his heart he had always been against Mussolini, as Cenzo Rena ought to know, Cenzo Rena was a man who understood other people's thoughts without very much being said. He had heard what had happened when he was on the way to Scoturno, where he was going to buy a few cherries for his children, and had turned back so as to speak to Cenzo Rena at once, he had thrown that decoration of his with “God curse England” on it into a ditch, In any case for some time past he had been disgusted by the words on the decoration, he was a Christian and did not want God to curse anybody. Cenzo Rena told him there was little he could do to testify on his behalf, for the present no one was asking any questions, he told him to stay quietly where he was and go on acting as police-sergeant. And the internees, asked the police-sergeant, what ought he to do about the internees, if they ran away what ought he to do ? Nothing, Cenzo Rena told him, nothing. How could he do nothing, said the police-sergeant, they were war internees and the war was not over yet. Cenzo Rena told him not to think about it but to come and drink some wine with the others.

The dressmaker told the story of how she had hidden the red flag in her baby's cradle, a baby who was now twenty years old and had been taken prisoner in Somaliland, but perhaps he still remembered the flag stuck into the straw bed of his cradle one night while the Fascists were shooting all round the house. And Anna told the story of the day when they burned the newspapers, she and Ippolito and Emanuele and Concettina, and the dressmaker said that she too had burned all kinds of things during those years, she lived next door to the Marchesa and the Marchesa used to come in every minute with some excuse or other to spy out what she was burning. The dressmaker said that now Fascism had gone up in smoke the Marchesa must be made to pay dearly for all the anonymous letters she had written to police headquarters in the town, and for all the overbearing things she had done in the village, one of her daughters had been a servant in the Marchesa's house and when they had fetched her back home again she was spitting blood because the Marchesa had given her a punch in the chest, the Marchesa had put it about that she was consumptive but she was not consumptive, she had had something broken inside her chest. Then La Maschiona came out and shouted her plan about the cage, perhaps now they would make that cage on four wheels to put Mussolini in and send him round the villages, but they would have to make it very big, so that there would be room in it for the Marchesa too and for a good many other people who had done overbearing things, she had her mouth full of spittle and could hardly wait to spit. Cenzo Rena was coming and going and pulling corks out of bottles, he was still in his bath-gown and it did not occur to him to get dressed, he swallowed a lot of wine and kept hold of the police-sergeant by his cloak, he did not want him to go away. He told La Maschiona to stop talking about her plan for the cage, he had heard it all too often and he did not like it any more. In any case it was useless to talk any more about Mussolini, no one was thinking about Mussolini now. Now there was the King, the collector of coins, who gradually had pulled himself together and wanted to try and take command. The King would dig out goodness knows what old ministers, because Italy had had quite enough of Fascists with big muscular torsos and of athletic processions and had a great longing for white-haired, mild old gentlemen with crooked, trembling knees. In a short time Italy would certainly be flooded with mild old gentlemen, dressed as generals and ministers and dragging behind them elderly wives, trembling and white-haired, and Italy would clap her hands at these elderly wives, sick as she was of the women that Fascism had brought into fashion, bronze breasts and thighs crowned with ears of corn on the bridges and the fountains. The King would go about Italy sometimes on horseback and Italy would clap her hands at him, he had never imagined that the King's crooked knees could be pleasing to Italy and yet now it was just those crooked knees that Italy was greeting with joy and relief, and the wizened, disdainful, monkey-like little face under the peaked cap that was too big for him. If anyone fired a shot in the air the little monkey would run off and hide himself in the place where he had been for so many years, the little monkey would run off to the cellar where his collection of coins was kept, but at present Italy was pleased and was not thinking of firing any shots immediately. The police-sergeant made as if to rise, because he could not bear to hear the King called a little monkey. His father had received a medal from the King's own hands. Cenzo Rena held him firmly by his cloak and poured him out some more wine, perhaps later on he and the police-sergeant might become enemies but not yet, not that day, that day they must drink together over the downfall of Mussolini. Later on, after the little monkey had also been put aside, they would have to begin to do something really fine, but he did not want to tell the police-sergeant what, because he did not want to cause him pain that day.

In the evening Cenzo Rena felt very ill and collapsed on his bed, he was all red and his eyes were starting out of his head and he had a taste of bull's meat in his mouth, and he could not go to the municipal office with the
contadini
to burn the Fascist dossiers, the
contadini
came to call him but he was on the bed in his room in the dark, and he lay there complaining. The doctor came and said it was German measles, but Cenzo Rena told him that as usual he was wrong, he might have German measles too but that was the lesser thing, he felt a severe illness coming on, typhus or cholera. He did not sleep the whole night long and had a high fever, and he could hardly bear to wait for morning to come so that he could let the doctor know ; when had German measles ever caused such a high fever ? And he said that now he understood, for some time he had been very gloomy and had felt disgust for everything and had believed that the earth was going to ruin, but the truth was that it was just he himself, Cenzo Rena, that was going to ruin.

After a week the doctor discovered that Cenzo Rena had typhus, but Cenzo Rena could not crow over him in triumph, because he was unconscious and muttering incoherently, with a little bit of a face sticking out above the sheets, all swollen and bristling with grey beard, and a bag of ice on his forehead. But every now and then he would open his eyes and say that of course the police-sergeant had kept the money he had given him for the refugees from Naples, he was really nothing but a scoundrel, that police-sergeant. And he asked Anna whether Mussolini was still well out of the way. Yes, still, said Anna, and Cenzo Rena said he would have to be shot some time or other, but not at once. And the funny part was that the King would have to be shot too, and what on earth would the police-sergeant look like on the day the King was shot ? There would have to be a little trial and then the shooting. Cenzo Rena closed his eyes again and wrapped the sheet round him and fell asleep.

Franz had not succeeded in getting away, the police-sergeant had told him not to move for the present, just as the Turk and the old women and the internees at Scoturno were not moving ; they were war internees and the war was by no means over yet. The only thing was that they could spare themselves the trouble of ringing the bell. Franz was beside himself with rage at the police-sergeant, there was typhus now at San Costanzo into the bargain, Cenzo Rena had it and there were other cases in the village, probably it had been brought by those refugees from Naples, the youth with the black bandage was dead. Franz said that if he died of typhus it would be the fault of the police-sergeant. He spent all his time in the kitchen at the inn seeing whether the food was boiling, and before sitting down to table he made them boil his spoon and fork, and he kept well away from the Turk because the Turk went to see Cenzo Rena. He himself, Franz, was careful not to go anywhere near Cenzo Rena's house, and when he saw Anna come down into the village to do the shopping, he saluted her with great hand-wavings from a very long way off, and shook his head violently, pointing towards the police station, to explain that he had business with the sergeant. Anna had to come down herself to do the shopping because La Maschiona had taken the little girl up to Scoturno di Sopra, to a cottage in the middle of the fields in which lived her grandmother, an old woman of over ninety. La Maschiona wept all day long at Scoturno di Sopra because she was sure that Cenzo Rena would die, and also because she was sure that she and the little girl had typhus too ; but the little girl went off with a long stick in her hand to where the sheep were pasturing, and she also went with La Maschiona's grandmother to cut grass for the rabbits.

The Turk came every day to see Cenzo Rena, he would sit down at his bedside and fan himself with his hat, and would sit there for hours quite silent, looking at that little bit of a face sticking out above the sheets, and at Anna moving about the room on tiptoe with the ice and the medicines. When the Turk went away Anna would go down with him to the door, she and the Turk had become friends and would talk together for a little at the door, the Turk said every day that Cenzo Rena looked well. The Turk would go away and she would sit down for a moment on the staircase of the big, empty house, and she longed to shout to the Turk to stay a little longer there with her, but the Turk was already some distance away along the sandy path, and she had to go back to Cenzo Rena and look at his swollen, goggle-eyed face sticking out above the sheets, and refill the ice-bag and count out the drops into a glass.

The, Turk brought Anna little notes from Franz. They were complaining little notes in which Franz moaned about the typhus and about the police-sergeant, and about Amalia never writing to him ; Mammina had let him know that Amalia's nerves were badly shaken and that it might perhaps be necessary to shut her up in a mental home. Anna thought for a moment about Amalia and Mammina and Giuma, and how strange it was that all those people should still exist; for herself now there was nothing except the typhus, the big, empty, silent house, and Cenzo Rena's face growing ever redder and more goggle-eyed. She wrote to Concettina to ask whether she could not leave her baby with someone and come and see her. Concettina answered that she was sorry but it wasn't possible, she was expecting her husband from day to day and perhaps Giustino would be coming back too. Concettina enquired anxiously whether they would now do anything to her husband for having worn a black shirt and sometimes marched in processions.

The Turk never stopped saying how disgusting Franz was. He saw typhus germs everywhere, and as for those little notes for Anna, he used to throw them to him across the table, and he kept on saying he was mad to go and see Cenzo Rena, and each time he asked him whether he had at least disinfected his hands. He spent the whole day groaning in the kitchen that he no longer had any money, because the authorities had cut off the small allowance given to the internees and he now received nothing from his wife, and the landlady of the inn was sorry for him and gave him credit, but Franz had a big diamond ring on his finger and why in the world didn't he sell it, rather than allow himself to be kept by the landlady? The Turk had been provident and had put a little money aside. Anna had a letter one day from Emanuele, he was in Rome and was running backwards and forwards all day long from one appointment to another, from time to time he remembered the soap factory but thrust the thought aside, he had no time now for the soap factory. Danilo also was in Rome, he had escaped from his island on the day of Mussolini's fall, he was in very poor health because he had caught a whole heap of diseases on the island and perhaps he ought to go up into the mountains to get well, but who thought of going to the mountains now, there was now the re-making of Italy to be thought of. Emanuele had appointments all the time with Danilo and Danilo's friends, the ones who had been in prison for so many years and had come out on the morning of July 25th, with people applauding and clapping their hands. Emanuele sent Anna a cheque for Franz, he said he was really distressed about Franz but he had no wish to write to him, he had other things to think about now than the troubles of Amalia and Franz. The Turk brought the cheque to Franz and asked him if he was going to disinfect it.

Cenzo Rena lay stiller and stiller and more and more hidden under the sheet, but one evening, all of a sudden, he threw back the sheet and sat up in bed, and he saw the doctor who was on the point of going away, and Anna putting ice into the bag with a spoon. Cenzo Rena gave a long, squealing yawn, and they asked him if he felt better and if he would like some broth to drink and he said yes, but he was still going to die, he said, he could not see any more days for him to live, he could only see a big black hole in front of him. In any case he had no wish to live but he had no wish to die either, he wished merely to be ill in his bed for ever, with the Turk coming to see him and the ice-bag on his head. Anna brought the broth and Cenzo Rena took some of it, and the doctor said that now he was beginning to get well, but Cenzo Rena told him that he was wrong as usual, he did not feel very ill but he felt death approaching. In his back he felt death approaching, there was a spot in his back that trembled and pulsated, right down at the bottom of his back where his seat began, a spot which was quite cold and trembling. The doctor went away and Cenzo Rena lay down flat again but went on talking, he talked like that the whole night and Anna was very pleased, at last Cenzo Rena was talking and getting better. He no longer had that goggle-eyed look but had eyes that could see, and he stroked Anna with a hand that had grown whiter and smoother, poor Anna, he said, a fine disaster it would be if he died. A disaster because, when all was said and done, he had never made her turn into a real person at all, when all was said and done she was still just an insect, a little lazy, sad insect on a leaf, he himself had been just a big leaf to her. And now, if her leaf was taken away, she would fall down and be lost, with her little wings that could not fly and her little staring eyes, he had never been able to give her the power to fly and to breathe, he had been only a leaf and had given her nothing but a little rest. He asked her if she still remembered the day when together they had looked at themselves in the barber's looking-glass, on that day they had decided to get married and they had had cold shudders but they both felt very strong and aggressive and free ; wasn't it true that she too had felt aggressive and free that day ? But how far off that day now seemed, and what had happened, he wondered, to that barber's looking-glass, perhaps a bomb had fallen on it, if he did not die he would like to go and see if that looking-glass was still intact, he would like to look at himself in it again with her. They had never again been so strong and free as they had been that day, they were quite contented together but only like an insect and a leaf, very quiet and contented in their home, far removed from both good and evil. But what ought they to do, asked Anna, what ought they to do so as not to be outside both good and evil ? Then Cenzo Rena told her not to ask foolish questions. But he asked forgiveness for carrying on this long conversation, he had been silent for such a long time with his face under the sheet, he had lain there with his eyes shut as though he were asleep but he had been unravelling his thoughts, and he had known that the Turk came often, the Turk was a dear good man. if he was going to die he would like once more to see the
contadino
Giuseppe, “lived and died a Socialist”, and explain to him thoroughly once again all the things he would have to do when he was mayor of the village. Poor Anna, he said, a fine disaster it would be if he died. But really and truly, why should it be a disaster, he said, she was young and had still so much of her life to live, and perhaps, with him dead, she would all at once stop being an insect and would turn into a hard, strong woman, with clenched teeth and a bold, free step, instead of those little gentle steps, instead of those little sad, gentle eyes. For loneliness and sorrow were the salvation of the spirit, so at least it said in books and perhaps it was true. He himself had had a little loneliness and sorrow in his life but not much, women had let him down and he had felt mortified and bewildered for a few days, sitting huddled in the corner of a bar in a foreign town, with a glass in front of him with something green in it. Yes, he remembered moments like that. A glass with something green in it, and all round him the unknown town quivering and humming, and he himself dirty and tired and completely alone. But they had been mere moments and any little thing had sufficed to make him feel the earth under his feet again, the firm, solid earth to walk upon, and all at once he would feel fresh and happy again, with a great hunger and thirst to discover the things of the earth. He thought now that perhaps it had been bad for him to be always spared in this way, never to have fallen to the bottom of one of those cesspools into which men stumble ; life had given him a great deal, but a real cesspool, a really deep one, it had never given him. And then he had married Anna, and perhaps if she had let him down it would have been a real cesspool for him, because he had become extremely fond of her, he didn't quite know how, when he had married her he had had no idea that he would be able to grow so fond of her. But she had not let him down, and she had been very good and quiet with him there. One reason why she had been so very good there was that she was very lazy, she was a person who stayed where she was put. Very lazy, he said, and he placed his hand over her mouth because she was protesting. The little girl wasn't an insect, he said, the little girl wasn't a person who stayed where she was put. Poor Anna, he said, that child would give her something to think about. He wanted to drink a little more broth and he said it was very good, he said that even Anna had learned to do something at San Costanzo, for instance she had learned to put on a chicken to boil and make broth. But Anna told him that the farrier's mother had come to put the chicken on to boil, and then Cenzo Rena had a good laugh, he asked if the farrier's mother came every day, and he said that the farrier and his mother were dear good people. He felt very well now he had had the broth, he said, he felt very light and fresh, but he still had that spot in his back which made him feel he was going to die, a small patch of skin which was all contracted and chilled, and he pulled up his pyjamas to show her where it was. And then he asked for a looking-glass because he no longer remembered his own face, he looked for a long time at his cheeks and his lips and all the grains of rice, all a little dimmed by the fever. And then he started looking at his hands and his wrists and a blue vein in his arm, and he wanted to look at his feet too and pulled them out from under the sheet, he was ugly but he had beautiful feet, he said, beautiful long, narrow, aristocratic feet. And no one knew what was in store for the dead, he said, perhaps nothing at all but perhaps, on the other hand, there was something, probably a great boredom, he said, a deathly boredom. There was a possibility that he might be made to meet his mother, perhaps it was thought that it would be a pleasure to him whereas he had not the slightest wish to see his mother again, they had never got on well together, she was a capricious and spiteful old woman and she swore he would die in poverty, because he used to lend money to the
contadini
She always used to sit with her feet on a stool and she would give the stool a kick when they began quarrelling. He always remembered very clearly that thud on the footstool, and during those days when he had lain silent with his face under the sheet he had expected every moment to hear that thud, and it would have meant it was the other life beginning.